


Let's get this over with

by Buggirl



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bondage, Crack Relationships, F/M, Femdom, Kink Meme, Masturbation, Non-Canon Relationship, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:44:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buggirl/pseuds/Buggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcanista/pseuds/Arcanista">Arcanista</a> for editing and general assistance with tidying up the fill for publishing here, much appreciated!</p><p>Done for the kink meme.</p><p> Prompt: <i>"I just want some femdom which isn't all PVC and thigh high boots. I want a more subtle show of power.</i></p><p>   <i>Dagna is given Samson, and he is a total brat about it. He loves making Dagna's jaw tense; he sees her as sweet and naive, and he thinks he can break her, make her leave him alone. Dagna never breaks out of her sweetness, but at some point she says something to him, something derogatory about his behavior. She's still got that sing-song voice, she's still firm of hand but light of touch, and that turns him on more than he could have anticipated. He decides to see how far he can push it. Turns out it's pretty far."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dagna’s patience had been sorely tested. For most of Samson’s time in Skyhold, she had wanted to blow off the dust to find any vein of silver, but yesterday had been the last straw. Her attempts to cajole him to sit still, follow directions had been so fruitless that she had thrown her surgical tools on the ground. The damage to her instruments had her immediately regretting her actions.

And he had laughed. 

In any event, the tools were now too dirty to use safely. Despite his behaviour, if he’d gotten an infection and died, she’d have been beside herself. She had sent him packing to Cullen rather than let it ruin her day.

She asked for an audience with the Inquisitor after Samson left, but knowing how busy he was she wasn’t sure that she’d get any kind of response. But Lord Lavellan asked for her immediately and so she had outlined her problem.

“I’m not sure there’s much I can do, Dagna.” He said with a sigh. “Perhaps Cullen might have some answers, or a word?”

She slogged up to the Commanders office to speak with him. When she outlined her problem, Cullen rubbed the back of his neck before answering. “I’m at a loss as to what to do, aside from perhaps withdrawing the lyrium.”

Dagna shook her head. “No, that won’t work. Don’t you remember when he was first coming off the red, what he was like? I know the blue is so much easier, but still. He’s not really a well man, now is he? My conscience won’t let a man suffer.”

Cullen nodded. “You’re right, and he’s no good to us like that. Is there much more you have left to do?”

“No, not really. I guess I’ve left it too late now. Well, I’ll just plod on to the end,” she said.

“Schoolteacher voice, perhaps.” Cullen said and laughed.

“What do you mean, Commander?” Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Well, what I knew of Samson was that he was always one to do the right thing-- despite being a cheeky bastard. Chastisement from authority always seemed to cow him a little. He was never beyond taming. It was something I noticed more when it was a woman barking the orders. Unless it was Meredith.”

Dagna rubbed her thumb and forefinger across her top lip before nodding. “Drop my sunny personality to play school marm. Is that what you’re suggesting, Commander?”

“Well, not completely. Just don’t put up with his mischief, and it might work. Of course you shouldn’t be nice to him, Dagna. Remember who he is and what’s he done. He’ll respond to discipline like a good former Templar, and he’ll respond well to you being… less nice.” Cullen folded his arms in front of him and stood back. “You seem sceptical.”

“I guess I might be, but I guess it’s worth a shot. Thank you, Commander.”

“I’ll come and see you in a few days and see how it’s going. I can lay some pressure on him. You only need ask.”

“I’ll give your suggestion a try first, Commander and I’ll see how we go.”

“Oh and Dagna,” he said as she turned to go.

“Yes?”

“Perhaps lay off on the small talk, it’s probably not helping.”

She nodded, then headed back to the Undercroft to give the matter more thought. It didn’t take long for an idea to start brewing, one she hadn’t considered before.


	2. Chapter 2

Samson was playing a game and he knew her resolve was cracking. That was exactly what he wanted. It was the only way he could tolerate the endless tests, the prodding and poking. Her naiveté and sunny nature would be her downfall, and then finally he’d be left alone. He’d be at peace, because by the Maker she never fucking shut up. He’d bet a silver she thought her voice calming, but it was like steel against stone sometimes. He gritted his teeth and relished the thought of how far could he push her today. Yesterday was nothing.

He arrived in the Undercroft midmorning, the usual time. He immediately noticed something was different. 

It was quiet. Usually the dwarf was talking from before he arrived to the time she left, and yesterday despite the frustration he seemed to have caused, she never shut up then either. It was something he didn’t think he’d hear again. This comforting silence.

He came down the stairs and sat on the usual stool, chains off and guards gone for the next few hours. 

“Where’s the smith?” he asked.

“Not here,” she replied, brief, chirpy but not with the usual chit chat. She didn’t even lift her head from what she was looking at. Not ‘Oh he’s gone away on business, to town, with his family, to buy a one legged fucking dog, and a barrel of ale for a bargain.’ Just simply ‘not here.’

He scratched his head and in his confusion, laughed.

She turned and looked at him with something he recognised as disgust before breaking into a smile, and for a fleeting moment, he felt his chest tighten.

He suppressed the rest of his laugh with a cough and sat upright on the seat.

A full half hour passed, and not a word. She carefully sanitised parts of his skin and took scrapings. She plucked and cut samples of hair. He in return was quiet and compliant. He finally broke his silence, “So no chit chat for me today, dwarf? No musing about the outside world? No reminiscing of your days in Orzammar and the Hero of Ferelden? Come on, you must have _some_ tale for me. Yes?”

“My name is Dagna. Arcanist Dagna. Use my name. Please,” she said and shot him a look that once again set off a flutter in his gut.

He shook his head, confused at the sudden overwhelming feeling that he just should obey, the way she said please, and the look she had given him, but it didn’t stop him from squirming.

“Samson,” she barked. She stood upright, sniffed loudly and tossed her head as she spoke. “Remain. Still.” There was no mistaking the command in her voice and he immediately stopped fidgeting. His reward? A smile and a tilt of her head.

“Finished,” she said. “You can wait over there.”

“That’s it? No well-done, Samson? Nice of you to help, Samson?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and said, “You’re here as a prisoner. I don’t need to expend niceties on you.” 

Dagna turned her face abruptly from him and she moved to the Undercroft door. She opened it to speak with the guard outside. “He’s ready to go.”

A mild twitch played in Samson’s eye extended rapidly to his limbs. The undercurrent of red that occasionally bubbled to the surface made him jittery. It was something that usually, when all was quiet and he was alone, would gnaw at his gut. Being here, with her…


	3. Chapter 3

Dagna was pleasantly surprised with what had happened that day. She’d remained as quiet as she could be-- which had been extremely hard for her-- she’d wanted to talk about the flowers she had seen on Lady Montilyet’s desk. She’d wanted to speak of how, when she came to the surface, the flowers had been intoxicating. Once she had lain in a field of daisies and fallen asleep. She wished she could dream, because if she could, she would want to dream of those flowers.

Maybe a few more days with Samson and things would be done. She could send him to the Commander for good and she could go back to normal. She’d been firm with him and he had responded well. She’d do it again today and see how it panned out. But the things forming in her mind were snowballing.

He came to her at the usual time, with the usual greetings of ‘dwarf’ and a nod. 

“My name is Dagna. Arcanist Dagna. Use my name. Please,” she said firmly. It had worked yesterday, after all. Samson smirked at her. She knew the challenge in that look. This was not a good start. 

She required more samples, some sweat, if possible. A swab from inside his cheek even. Just to be sure, she asked him to remove his shirt for this. He obliged quietly before waggling his eyebrows at her.

“You like this, dwa--” A rap on his knuckles made him yelp. “What the--”

She’d slapped him on the hand with a staff handle grabbed from a nearby bench. And she’d smiled while she did it. “Dagna. Arcanist Dagna. Remember that, _former_ Templar Samson.”

His mouth gaped, and she wished she could frame a picture of his face and show it to the Commander. Samson’s eyebrows squished together, and she saw him puff out his chest. If she wasn’t mistaken-- and she often was-- but was he blushing? Or was it just the reflection from the pieces of his old red lyrium armour that she had sitting out on the table? Wait, was that safe? Maybe she should-- no, focus.. 

“Is this a game, dwa--” Another sharp rap across his knuckles stopped him short. “Maferath's balls, woman!” 

Again she swatted him. “Dagna, or Arcanist Dagna. Not ‘woman’. Not ‘dwarf’. You need to remember that,” she said as she played with the handle. She had a smile that lit her face from ear to ear.

Samson looked off to the side. She’d expected some bite-back, but instead could see that she’d been correct. He _was_ blushing.

She suppressed a giggle, trying to remain as rigid as she could. 

“Lift your arm please, Samson,” she asked sweetly. His immediate yield to her command made a heat and a blush rise to her own cheeks.


	4. Chapter 4

Samson found his posture stiffening under Dagna’s directions. He found a heat rising in his cheeks and… other places that he couldn’t control.

A smile formed on his face. This dwarf, this little torturer, was a cock teaser. He could see it in her eyes when she rapped him across the hands. Here he was, shirtless and at her mercy and all he could think about was his cock and what he wanted to do to her. 

He watched her move closer to him, scraping tools and vial in hand. “Dw-- Dagna. Arcanist Dagna.”

“Yes?” she said as she made contact with the skin of his underarm.

“Does this… excite you?”

“Does what excite me?”

“This?” He waved his free hand along his torso.

She looked up at him and barely batted an eyelash. “Hardly.” She finished her scrapings and placed the vial to one side.

Andraste’s sugary tits, her voice was so sweet, yet so fucking hard as well. He rankled at the thought that he possibly liked her more when she talked, but the hint of control in her voice was enough to silence him. Whatever he thought earlier her voice wasn’t grating _now_. It wasn’t steel against stone. It was balm to a burning need; a drink to a thirst that he couldn’t otherwise quench. 

Maker’s breath, he’d thought he could break her, but now, if she broke him he wouldn’t complain, not at all.

“Are you sure? I mean, you often don’t get live specimens like me every day now.” He moved his hand down to one side, knee vibrating underneath him.

She picked up the staff handle and pressed it firmly on his thigh to stop him shaking his leg. “Stop that. I didn’t say to let your arm down. Put it back up, please. If you continue to shake like that, I might nick you.”

“That would be…” 

“Painful. Yes, I know,” she said as she slid the handle up his thigh and back down. 

He put his arm back up and she took one final sample with the scalpel. He stared into her eyes. There was a glint he recognised from places in his past. Of women he knew who didn’t take his cheek, of women who slapped him then kissed him, of women who took him to the edge and never let him fall. 

“I’m finished,” she said playfully.

He put his shirt on and walked to the door of the Undercroft. When he turned back to look at Dagna, she was beaming, biting her lip and bouncing on her toes. Her hands moved up and down the handle of the staff she’d used to hit him.

The colour returned blazing onto his pallid cheeks. His pulse quickened and his mouth went dry. He rushed back to his quarters. There would be no doubt that during tonight’s rest he’d be thinking of her, her honeyed voice and the hard shaft of that staff handle.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, he’d be prepared for her and she was ready for it. Yesterday had once again gone better than expected. Dagna had wisened up to the fact that he thought her a fool. A naive and sexually inexperienced one at that. She’d spent years in the Circle of Magi; did he not realise that she was an adult, with desires and proclivities that needed satisfying?

She just never thought she’d be doing this here, and with him. She giggled at thought as she placed the smuggled chocolate she’d received from the cook on her workbench.

When the guards brought Samson in, and before they left she asked him to remove his shirt. He looked suspicious but complied.

“Before you go,“ she said as the guard turned to leave. “I’d like you to tie his hands behind his back, please. He gave me an awful amount of grief yesterday; it would make things simpler.”

“What are you doing, dw-- Dagna. I did nothing yesterday that would--”

She shook her head and grinned. “I’m speaking. Please let me finish.” She turned back to the guard. “Make sure it’s tight.”

When the guard left she locked the door behind him and. Samson sat quietly on the stool before saying, “Really now? Was this necessary? What are you--”

She could hear the hint of unease in his voice and it made her eyes shine. “Shush, it’s really for the best. Trust me.” 

Samson cleared his throat and his bound fists clenched tight. “What are you planning?”

She smiled and picked up the staff handle, the same one as yesterday. The one she’d smacked him across the hands with and run up and down his thigh.

Samson’s eyes widened and he swallowed visibly as she bought it close to him.

“Your bindings aren’t too tight?” she asked as she walked around him. 

He shook his head. 

She produced a small handkerchief from a pocket and put it over his eyes to blindfold him.

“What in Andraste’s name are you doing?” he asked, shoulders twitching.

She laid a warm hand on his face. “Nothing you won’t like.”

Samson laughed. “You, you dwa--” He hesitated, clearly shy of the staff-handle she had in her hands. “Do whatever you want, Arcanist Dagna.”

“Oh, I will,” she said.

There was no way he could see her smile, so she giggled again and laughed outright when he sighed.


	6. Chapter 6

He’d fought with Dagna for two months, resisted her in every way. Made her life as hellish as he could, but now it troubled him how much he wanted to hear her voice here in Skyhold’s underbelly. How he wanted her touch him however she gave it to him. He’d never felt so vulnerable, nor as aroused as he did right now. He’d rubbed one out in her name yesterday evening. More than one. He knew he’d be doing the same again tonight.

He felt her tug at his pants and a chill ran through him. His smallclothes came next, and then he was sitting starkers on the stool, hands behind his back and still blindfolded. The cold air hit his cock and he felt it shrivel with the blast of air. It didn’t help that she giggled as he felt himself shrink.

Humiliation? He was used to that, but this was another level. While he’d been on the red stuff, sex really hadn’t interested him. It wasn’t really until he’d been switched back to the blue that he started thinking that way again. For the moment, he was mildly worried what this little tease had in store for him, however much he deserved it.

He felt the staff handle being dragged over his body: from his neck, across to his shoulders then down to his chest and his stomach. It lifted, then traced down one leg then back up and down the other. His breathing grew ragged as she passed near his groin. When she traced the handle over his nipples he shivered and a moan escaped his mouth. She hadn’t even touched his cock yet but he could feel it rise. 

She spent eternity going over every part of his body, and all the while she remained silent.

“Say something, anything,” he begged.

He was rewarded with a laugh and her blowing on his stomach and groin.

Again he moaned and bit his lip. “You fucking tease,” escaped from his mouth but a smack to his thigh brought him back from pleasure to pain.

“No swearing,” she said chirpily. 

She lingered on his most sensitive spots; his stomach and upper thighs, teasing delicately as she could with the staff-handle.

“You can use your hands any time, Arcanist,” he said breathlessly, hoping she’d wrap her little hands around his cock. But nothing changed; she lingered with the staff handle until it was replaced with something much softer.

A feather? 

He felt it trace his sides, stomach, and lower back down his thighs and back up again and Maker he wanted her to trace it along his cock. 

“Oh please, yes,” he whispered.

“I think I have the hang of what you might like now. Investigation is over for now,” she said.

He felt his smallclothes being slipped back on and his pants over the top and brought up to his thighs. When she undid his blindfold, she smiled her sweetest smile. 

“Stand for me please,” she asked as she pulled his smallclothes and pants over his hips. “I think Cullen asked for you for the rest of the day.” She unlocked the door and called the guard.


	7. Chapter 7

Dagna looked at the chocolate she had left from the day before. She hadn’t got to the point where she had wanted to give it to him. He had complied, even begged, and that had pleased her immensely. But a chocolate was just that; it wasn’t a release.

When he came to the Undercroft, there was a swagger in his step, and a glint in his eye. However, there’s no back talk, no jibes, no ‘dwarf’ or ‘woman’. He sat on the stool and readied his arms behind his back.

When she went to lock the door she found Cullen pushing it open.

“Commander. I didn’t expect you,” she said, wide-eyed.

“I just came to check on your charge. Is now convenient?”

“Of course.” She smiled weakly as Cullen walked down the steps to where Samson was.

“Maker’s balls. What the fuck are you doing here Cullen?” Samson rolled his shoulders and sneered.

“Actually, I’ve come to check on you,” he said and shook his head.

“You saw me the other fucking day. Why come here now?” 

“Is he always this testy, Dagna? Is that why he’s tied up?” Cullen asked as he turned to her.

“Sometimes. Although the advice you gave worked a treat, plus some people management skills I sort of forgot about. The tying up is more to protect him, in case he flinches and I cut him.”

Cullen nodded and Dagna made the pretense of doing actual work. She winked at Samson who smiled and shook his head. 

“So what are you doing now, Dagna? How far has your research got?” Cullen asked.

“Oh well, I’m-- testing the boundaries of things right now, Commander.” She raised her gaze to Samson and fiddled with her hair. “You know, pushing the edge. Trying to draw things out I wouldn’t have otherwise.” She drew her tongue slowly over her lips as she spoke, making it a special gesture just for her test subject.

Well, I’ll let you get back to it then. You.” Cullen pointed at Samson. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Never, Commander. Our sweet Arcanist has me by the balls, it seems.” His one sided smirk was meant for Dagna.

Cullen’s lip curled with revulsion and he made a disgusted noise before leaving.

Dagna locked the door behind him “Open your mouth,” she said to Samson.

He opened it willingly and she popped in a large square of chocolate. 

"Good boy," she said with a smile.


	8. Chapter 8

Once again Dagna blindfolded him. She removed his pants and smallclothes and the teasing and torment began again. He didn’t mind. Maker be blessed he didn’t mind.

She began with the handle again, its hard edge sharp against his skin. Then she moved on to the feather, dragging it up and down his biceps, over onto his nipples then fleetingly hitting the skin near his underarm.

Every so often she moved the feather to his stomach, then near but not on his cock. He still hardens all the same, the untouched appendage managing to rise without help. It was excruciating and he flinches and moans every time she hits a certain spot on his body.

Once again he begged her to talk. “Please, say anything at all!”

“There was once a time when you wanted me to shut up,” she laughed.

“I know, unbelievable.” He said as his stomach spasmed, the feather teasing his belly button.

“I’d like to talk about flowers. Do you realise how beautiful they are?” She traced the feather over each nipple. “How scented they are? It’s positively arousing, you know.”

He nodded. And he felt the texture of whatever she was dragging over his skin change again. He shivered, cock twitching like crazy. “Oh, Maker, what is that?”

“Horsehair brush,” she said. “They’re so suggestive too. They dance in the wind, showing themselves off way before spring has begun.”

He heard her voice changing, like she was lowering herself down. He felt his legs being spread apart and a breath on his balls. But it wasn’t tongue or lips-- it was that little horse hair brush that brushed over his balls ever so briefly. She did this Maker knows how many times. He moaned and bucked his hips loudly. He was sure his asshole was fluttering at the thought of her sticking a finger in and touching that one sensitive spot.

She moved the brush to his shaft-- just the lower half and then onto to his thighs and lower. What he wouldn’t give for a warm mouth on his balls or to bury himself in her mouth. She moved to the head of his cock, and all the while he was begging, pleading for more, for her to touch him, to say anything. But she didn’t: just made the odd sigh, a giggle here and there.

She was making him so hard it ached, and he pulsed with each pass of the brush. 

“Please, please Dagna. Please,” he said.

He knew he was undone; he needed to come, to spill his seed but all he had was his imagination and the feeling of that torturous little brush held by that torturous little desire demon he once dared call a dwarf.


	9. Chapter 9

This was working nicely; she had him just as she wanted him. Compliant and without backtalk. Begging for mercy and relief. But she wasn't quite ready to let him come yet. She could see him curling and uncurling his toes. His hips bucked and more and more precum oozed from the head of his cock. 

She grabbed the handle of the staff again and rubbed it up and down his legs. 

“This is a reminder, _former_ Templar Samson, that you will not come without asking me first. If you are close, you must tell me. With the Paragons as my witness, if you fail to tell me that you are going to come after you do I will torture the head of your cock so mercilessly that you won’t know up from down.”

He nodded his head vigorously and she kept to teasing both his balls and his shaft. When he told her he might come, she backed off and elsewhere: his nipples, his stomach, his back, his legs.

She did this at least five times, over several hours and each time he came close, she backed off. When one time it looked like he may disobey her, she smacked the top of his thighs with the handle of the staff. The handle hit hard; it would definitely leave a mark. He shrunk away, just a little bit.

He was whining and moaning and groaning so loudly now. A heat rose in her too, but she was in control, she was always in control. Her release would come later and it would be that much sweeter knowing it was in control of him. The unruly, surly villain with the pouty lips and impossible profile.

Finally she removed his blindfold. The look in his eyes was hazy, all over the place. She undid the ties that bound his hands.

“You need to remain seated, but you can touch yourself now.” She removed a heavy leather glove and draped a bare finger across her lips.

“Let me look at you,” he asked. “Please talk to me, say anything, tell me about flowers again, about the Hero of Ferelden, the Circle of Magi, anything.”

She watched him slowly pump his hand over his cock. Slow movements, then fast.

“This one time, in the Circle…”

Her voice was drowned out by him coming, ropes of semen leave his long-tortured cock. If there was no water to stifle the noise of his groans, the whole of Skyhold would likely hear him.

When he stilled and became silent, he looked up to her. “I took you for something else entirely, Dagna.”

“Of course you did. Everyone does.“ She grabbed his smallclothes and pants and helps him slide them back on. He was unsteady on his feet; he placed a hand on her shoulder. This was the first time she's let him touch her during the entire experience. 

She helped him pull his shirt over his head. “I’m afraid our blacksmith returns tomorrow, Samson.” 

“Then this is it? You’ve finished with me?” he said. 

She tilted her head. “I like to pick flowers in the mountains. Perhaps you can come with me. I can tell you what went on in the Circle of Magi.”

He smiled. That one sided smirk he always pulled. “I think I’d like that.”


End file.
